Sensitive
by Jyo-Chan
Summary: Zexion was a sensitive kind of guy. No, not in the way that you’d think…-Dexion Day Dedication AKA Triple D-


Zexion was a sensitive kind of guy. No, not in the way that you'd think…-Dexion Day Dedication AKA Triple D-

Once I was done with AkuRoku Day, I came to realize that Dexion Day was also right around the corner (dammit). I swear they have TOO many days in the calendar; I'm running low on ideas here!

**Disclaimer - **If I owned the game, I would be a multimillionaire and sipping on pina coladas on a beach, not sitting on my ass in front of a dang computer. Thank you very much, go away.

To Jess - I'm sorry for my lack of communications but I hope this makes up for it, a little bit anyway. I know you like your Zemyx/Dexion, so this is for you.

* * *

It was a rare day indeed whenever someone caught Zexion riding public transport. Not only did he own his own car and very much liked his personal space, he was also the tiniest bit claustrophobic. So everybody couldn't help but hang their mouths wide open when one day, they caught the slate haired boy riding the bus, to college, which was a good half an hour ride away (on a good day).

He had no choice in the matter. His car was in the repair shop, thanks to his dearest brother, and he lived in a fairly uptown suburban area, in other words, too far for anybody to bother giving him a ride. So he had to give in, push his tiny claustrophobic fears aside and endure public transport. At least until his car was fixed, which should take, more or less, about a week.

But at this point, a week seemed very far away. Especially when he was riding a semi-old bus that creaked whenever the driver pulled the brakes and when he was surrounded by people of varying stenches.

He couldn't help but wrinkle his nose in disgust. It didn't even matter if they were wearing perfume or cologne; they still _smelled_.

The seat next to him was occupied, by his books and bags, which made sure that nobody would think twice about sitting next to him. He was lucky he only had classes during the off-peak hours of traffic, which meant little, or close to none, passengers. But there was also the very rare morning or afternoon where he'd have to take his books and bags and pile them onto his lap instead.

After all, it would be ever so heartless of him to make an old lady stand, even if she _did_ smell like cats and kitty litter.

_Ew…_

Zexion sniffed and snuffed to clear the itchy sensation in his nose and started breathing through his mouth instead of covering his nose. He might hack up a hairball, but it beats offending the lady; she was carrying a might heavy looking purse; very whackable material.

He was very thankful she only stayed on for five stops, but before he could put his books and bags back onto the empty seat, another person popped by, this time, smelling entirely of the ocean. It _reeked_.

He couldn't help but wrinkle his nose in disgust again. Talk about a double-whammy; first cats, now the ocean. Great…

He sniffed again, but this time couldn't hold back the urge to cover up his nose from the onslaught of clashing scents.

The person next to him noticed; "Do you need a tissue?" He asked, completely oblivious to the inner workings of the slate haired boy.

Zexion ignored the question; "Are you wearing cologne?"

The other grinned; happy to be noticed, "Yup. Ocean Breeze; you like?"

"Might I ask you to sit else where?" It was a flat no. N-O. "Your scent is overbearing," he spoke as he breathed through the sweater and was continually trying to inch away despite the obvious lack of space.

The bus slowed to a stop, allowing one elderly woman to take her time getting off.

"Oh," he deflated, somewhat, but didn't seem too offended, "Ok, sure." He made a move to stand, get up and go, but three more passengers bustled on through and took whatever empty seats were left. He took another look around, but no options were left available, so he gave a sheepish smile, "Um, I'll be getting off soon, hope you don't mind."

Zexion sighed inwardly, but decided that he had no choice; this was public transport after all, not his car. He didn't want to voice out that, _yes_, he did mind, but he can be polite when he wanted to be and endured the rest of the ride practicing and counting how long he can hold his breath for. He counted up to a minute and a half.

The dirty haired blond only stayed on for seven stops, gave a small wave of goodbye, and a shouted thanks to the driver before slipping off. Zexion gave a nod, and once the other was out of the bus, he breathed in some fresh (but not clean) air.

The smell of the ocean was horrible; too salty, and the smell of cats was even worse; atrocious, but the smell of salt clung onto him like claws. It stuck to his clothes, on his hair, he swore he could even feel grains of _sand_ on the pages of his books and in the nooks and crannies of his bag. Despite how much he now despised the scent, he found himself memorizing it and comparing it to others, grading it as he went.

There were the tolerable scents; those he can breathe and not mind too much (1). There were the scents that made him wrinkle his nose in disgust and frown (2). There were the smells that made his nose twitch and itch in irritation (3) and make him sniff incessantly. There were those that made him breathe in through the sleeve of his sweater or jacket instead (4) and the odd foul one that made him prefer holding his breath and go without breathing for a minute and a half (5).

The gift of smell was a wonderful thing. But this? This is too much. If it weren't so offending (and somewhat worrying), he'd walk around with a mask on his face.

As soon as Zexion got off the bus two stops later and was able to breathe cleaner (?) and fresher (?) air, he gave a loud exhale and wished for his car back.

Never will he ever lend his car to his brother again. _Ever_.

* * *

The headache he was experiencing was one of the worse ones he had ever had to suffer and endure. The phone call he had that morning from the repair shop had a part in it.

So, it turned out not only did he had to have his car repaired, but the warranty was about to expire so they might as well give it a good tune up and a service while it was in. Kill two (in this case, three) birds with one stone, right? (That's one heck of a curve there.)

With eyes closed to the (stupid) world outside, Zexion drew in a deep breath, ignored the slight itch in his nose and exhaled, then promptly drew another in before his eyes shot opened at the familiar scent.

Damn…

"Hey! Fancy seeing you again," the other greeted happily and slipped into the free seat next to the slate haired boy.

Zexion cringed at the bright greeting; nobody should be that cheerful this early in the morning.

Despite the lack of greeting in return, the dirty haired blond didn't seem too deterred, "I used less today, just two sprays, is it better?" He asked curiously, but happily. Obviously, he thought he did a good deed.

Oh, how wrong he was…

"It is still overbearing." Flat no. N-O.

"Oh…" His mood deflated once more.

And once again, there was an obvious lack in available seats. However, this time, he only stayed on for six stops before giving a small wave and hopping off the bus with a shouted thanks to the driver.

As soon as he was gone, Zexion drew in another fresh (?) breath of air and exhaled in relief. The ocean smell was getting worse and more potent every time, despite the fact that the other only used 'two sprays'.

But once again, the scent clung onto his jacket, his clothes, his hair, and it seemed like there were even more grains of sand in his books and bag this time around.

He never did like the beach, even as a kid.

Too dirty, he said.

So while his brother played in the sand and water with the others kids, he sat under the shade on top of a beach blanket with a book to read while his mother sunbathed and his dad tried to make an elaborate sand castle that kids aren't allowed to touch.

He never did grow up like a normal kid, but then again, what exactly is 'normal'?

* * *

"So, when's the car getting back?"

Zexion continued to play on the piano and didn't bother to dignify that question with an answer, considering that it was his brother that was asking and also taking into account that it was his brother's fault that his car was in the shop in the first place.

Ignoring…

"Well, mum and dad's heading out in the weekend, and I need a ride on Saturday."

Ignoring…

"If it gets back before then, do you think I could-"

The keys hit an off chord and Riku cringed at the sourness of it.

Slowly, Zexion turned his head to regard his brother with a cool, collected look, "Normally, I wouldn't mind, and even though it always came back with a scratch or two every time you returned it, I still didn't mind. Because you're my brother; my sibling, we're supposed to share."

Riku nodded, although he had a very firm belief that this wasn't going to go well. Despite that, he tried anyway.

Zexion may look calm on the outside, he was anything but underneath.

He continued, "However, the last time you borrowed my car, it came back with a bump," he snapped his mouth shut at the wrong word and promptly changed his mind, "A dent." Much better, "A horrible, gigantic, _dent_ that practically _totaled_," Riku winced at the 'hip' lingo, "The trunk!" And the rear bumper and the back window and pushed the back seats a good five inches forward.

"I'm sorry! How many more times do I have to say it?" It wasn't like he knew the pole (a wooden one at that) would make such a huge impact on the car even though they were just reversing a few meters. Then again, they _did_ put the 'pedal to the metal'.

"Not only did I have to _pay_ for _your_ mistake which is practically _half_ the amount I'll have to pay for my years at _college_, but I end up having to take _public transport_."

Riku faltered just a bit at that last comment, "What's wrong with the bus?" He asked by way of escaping the guilt trip.

Zexion huffed, "It smells, it's disgusting, it's dirty and it _smells_."

The silver haired boy snickered a little bit; he knew about his brother's _acute_ sense of smell. "It's only for a few more days," he tried to ease the situation, "You can tolerate that much longer."

He huffed again as he turned back to the piano, "I think I've tolerated more than enough." Thank you very much.

Riku gave a slow nod, and then another as he strayed by the door while the slate haired boy began to play a few soft tunes. A few minutes passed in relative calmness.

"So," he started casually, "No to the car on Saturday then?"

"Get out!"

Riku barely dodged the piano theory book that was coming his way.

* * *

Two more days, just two more days.

This was one of the very few times of his life that he thought that two days was much too far away. It was only less than forty-eight hours left to go, surely he could endure that much longer. Just two more days of public transport and he'd be able to start driving his car to and from college again.

Sure he'd have to pay for parking and gas and other things once more, but it beats public transport any day.

But having ridden the bus for past two weeks has started to build an amount of endurance within him. He no longer wrinkled his nose in disgust as much as he did on the first day, no longer sniffed in irritation, no longer felt the need to breathe through the sleeve of his jacket and on the plus side, he could hold his breath for two minutes and fifteen seconds now. Nowhere close to the world-breaking record, but he was getting there. If two weeks can get him to increase his limit by forty five seconds then he believed that he only needed roughly another eighteen weeks to get to the eight minutes and fifty-eight seconds mark and beat it by an extra TWO seconds.

Zexion realized he was getting distracted when he found himself holding his breath even though he didn't need to. He pushed the temptation aside. Apart from getting your name into a lexicon-sized book, he doubted it would do anything beneficial in his life.

Now, the car.

Parking is ten dollars a day, gas is roughly around one-hundred give or take a few dollars depending on inflation and deflation (yeah right) a week which makes a total of about one-hundred and fifty used on the car per week not including other vehicle expenses.

Bus fares are only twenty-five,-eighty a week. Ten rides, three stages.

He frowned and weighed the pros and cons.

On the one hand, his car; freedom, personal space, GOOD AIR.

On the other hand, bus rides; no freedom, no personal space, BAD AIR, but cheap.

At this point, the pros clearly outweighed the cons, but he was severely lacking in money now, no thanks to his brother.

He drew in a deep breath and contemplated what to do with the car and his obvious lack in 'moolah'. Despite the cons, taking the bus to and from the house would be more economical (and good on his now-empty wallet).

He exhaled and drew in another breath, and immediately the taste of salt hit the back of his throat like the sea spray.

His insides clenched.

Despite the fact that there was only one seat left, the one right beside Zexion, the dirty haired blond made no move to sit. Merely shuffled past without either of them acknowledging each other and stood by the back exit, legs apart and braced for movement.

Something nagged at him, like he was forgetting something. He frowned as he went through his mental list while he checked his bags, for all his books, papers and assignments that were due within the next week. He patted the side pocket; good, the USB was still there.

Nothing was missing, so he brushed the paranoid thought aside and left it there.

He went through the pros and cons of his list again, occasionally adding another one on either side though the positives still outweighed the negatives by a few homeruns. (Although he had no idea what baseball had to do with anything.)

On the sixth stop, the ocean breeze was still there; taste still strong on the back of his throat.

On the seventh stop, the ocean breeze was still there; milder, but still obvious.

On the eighth stop, the ocean breeze was still there, but it melded in with everything else; lost in intensity.

On the ninth stop (his stop) the dirty haired blond left, taking the saltiness in the air with him.

His insides unclenched.

As soon as Zexion stepped off the bus, he breathed in the air before heading off to his first lecture with his books and bag. He never had the need for a locker before; his car had been his locker back then but at least now he's gained some amount of arm muscle. Still pitiful in comparison to the Average Joe, but at least it's something.

He inhaled another breath and sighed, something was missing; he didn't know what. He brushed the thought aside as he stepped into his class more than half an hour early and took his usual seat.

Once he had everything ready for the lecture, he went back to his previous thoughts. What were they again?

Ah yes.

On the one hand, his car; freedom, personal space, good air.

On the other hand, bus rides; no freedom, no personal space, bad (?) air, but cheap.

As he breathed in another lungful of air and held it in, he realized something; something else to add to the pros; no ocean breeze, no salt, no sand in his books and bag.

He exhaled before he reached the thirty-second mark.

…Or was it to the cons?

Zexion realized that he needed to do a lot more thinking regarding the situation. A hell of a lot more thinking.

* * *

"Good morning."

"Good morning," he returned as he slathered a good layer of jam onto his toast.

"So…"

Crunch…

Riku tapped his fingers on the marble counter as the other slathered another toast with a good helping of jam while still nibbling on the first.

"I see the car's back."

Crunch…

Zexion hummed as he went over to his bag to double-check his things once again.

"Looks almost as good as new."

Crunch…

Riku winced and hoped he didn't say anything bad.

The slate haired boy merely gave another hum as he checked the side pocket for his USB.

Crunch…

"Aw, come on, I offered to pay."

"Mother wouldn't allow it," then he finished the rest of the toast within a few bites.

Riku sighed and watched with slumped shoulder as Zexion got ready to leave the house, with his books and bags but not without his second piece of toast.

"See you later." He muffled out with the toast in mouth before slipping his shoes on with one hand and opening the door with the other.

"Hey, aren't you forgetting your car keys?" Riku shouted out before Zexion could leave the house.

The slate haired boy turned to his brother with the jam-covered toast still in his mouth and averted his attention over to the untouched car keys in a sea-shell encrusted bowl on the marble counter.

Crunch…

Riku gave a smug smile.

"You can have it, temporarily."

Riku's smile dropped off. Replaced with a 'whut?' face.

"But any damages on the car will be paid for by you from now on." By his future college funds more like.

Finally, "Whut?"

Crunch…

"I'm going to miss my bus." Zexion took a look at the clock hanging in the kitchen and left the house two clicks later, leaving behind a shocked Riku with a face that clearly said 'Whut?'.

* * *

The seat next to him stayed unoccupied; he made absolutely sure of that.

When the bus slowed to a stop and picked up a few more passengers, he took in a deep breath and the faint taste of the sea latched onto the back of his throat.

Zexion kept his gaze firmly ahead, and from his peripherals he could tell his presence obviously caused a certain amount of distress on the other. But Zexion made no move, no eye contact to acknowledge him.

Steadily, or as steady as he could be, the dirty haired blond moved to shuffle past, to stand by the back exit with his legs apart and braced for movement. But before he could, the slate haired boy's arm shot out and took hold of his own.

"Huh?"

"Sit." He kept his gaze straight ahead as he let go of the arm.

The other looked up and down the bus, seemed a little taken aback and anxious at the same time, but once the bus started moving again he eventually slipped into the only vacant seat available looking like a skittish cat.

The slate haired boy said nothing, which made the other all the more anxious, so he took it upon himself to say something. _Anything_.

"Uhm…" He started, his gaze shifting back and forth the (not) stranger beside him and around the bus for other seats, "Sorry…about the smell," he barely used a single spray this time.

"It's tolerable."

"Oh, ok, that's good," he couldn't fight back the awkward laugh. He swallowed nervously, "Uh..."

"It's faded."

"I'm sorry?"

"The smell; it's faded."

"Oh, uh," he was clearly taken aback, "That's because you-I mean, I uh…only used one spray," he flexed his finger once to prove a point.

"I see."

The dirty haired blond started twiddling his thumbs; a nervous habit he developed by watching too many movies involving nervous people and twiddling thumbs.

Obviously, his nerves got to him, because he bolted up on the fifth stop and looked about ready to hightail it outta there, but an arm reached out before he could give a wave and shout his usual thanks.

"We have four more stops to go."

"Well, yes, but you're making me nervous," he gave another awkward laugh and noticed some people staring at him. He tried to ignore them.

"I've been told that," he let go, "But it was not my intention."

"Ah…"

A loud cough, "Excuse me," it was from the bus driver, "Are you gonna get off?"

"Uh…" the dirty haired blond stared at the driver, then stared at the slate haired boy and back to the driver again before answering, "No, sorry, wrong stop."

The man shrugged, "Alright then," the bus doors slipped shut and they started moving again.

Slowly, he eased himself back into the seat and went back to twiddling his thumbs. The silence between them was getting on his rumpled nerves, but he was surprised when it wasn't him who spoke.

"What's your major?"

He gaped like a fish in open water for a good minute before he answered, "Marine biology."

The slate haired boy gave a nod, and the slightest uplift of his lips, "It fits."

He found himself smiling and his fraggled nerves leaving him at the same time, "Um, I'm Demyx, by the way."

Finally, he turned to face the other, "I'm Zexion, nice to meet your acquaintance."

It was a rare day indeed whenever someone caught Zexion riding public transport.

It was an even rarer day whenever someone caught Zexion riding public transport with a smile on his face.

* * *

"Oh my god, Riku! What did you do?"

"I don't know! Nothing! I swear something's wrong with the brakes!"

"You said that last time!"

"Oh my god, Zexion is going to _total_ me!" He wailed, desperately searching for a way out of his predicament.

"Dude, you are so _boned_!"

* * *

Lawls to the many (but accidental) mentions of the number TWO. Haha, Xigbar, you funny.

Anyways, Happy Dexion Day! ENJOY!

(It's 3am, I'm going to sleep now!)


End file.
